


It all ends the same (Why not keep chasing time)

by targaryen_melodrama



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, Mild Angst, POV Bucky Barnes, Takes place during the events of Avengers: Infinity war pre Battle of Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23538568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/targaryen_melodrama/pseuds/targaryen_melodrama
Summary: Sam seems to have caught the mild strain in his voice. He turns worried brown eyes on Bucky. “You okay, Buck?”Nine times out of ten it feels foolish to rely on his intuition, but Bucky is trying to grow out of the habit of ignoring it.“This just...this doesn’t feel right.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	It all ends the same (Why not keep chasing time)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my friend for beta'ing, I appreciate you :)

Nine times out of ten it feels foolish to rely on his intuition, but Bucky is trying to grow out of the habit of ignoring it. _Listen to yourself, James; what is your body telling you?_ are things Doctor Ayakha constantly tells him though, and Bucky figures the faster he can actually answer those questions, the better. 

Not listening to himself had become second nature somewhere between...1952 and 1956? Bucky (of course) can’t remember. He’s not sure if he’d grown out of it while he grew out of being Bucky, or if the little bit of Bucky that was left had shut it down for self-preservation. Because having your mind wiped out is one thing; having your mind wiped out and constantly being reminded by _someone_ that _something_ is wrong is fucking exhausting. 

_We can work on separating your intuition and your anxiety_ , Doctor Ayakha had said, and Bucky had maybe even believed her when she said it. _You_ have _anxiety,_ you _are not anxiety_. 

Her words had all but disappeared when T’Challa, Okoye and Ayo came striding towards him, regret all over their faces and alertness in every sharp move of their bodies. 

Since then, a steady stream of _wrong, wrong, wrong, something’s wrong_ had been stuck in his head like one of those terrible pop songs Natalia constantly played, fogging his head and trailing through his veins, his heart consistently sending the message through his entire body. 

The same horrid chorus is playing in Bucky's head a week later, when Sam knocks on the door of the room Bucky’s staying in at one of T’Challa’s several compounds, leaning against its frame, in a faded USAF t-shirt that was black the last time Bucky had seen it and dark grey sweatpants. The sun hasn’t quite set, still tainting the Wakandan sky beautifully, like it doesn’t knowーor doesn’t careーabout the imminent invasion. 

“So this is why you stayed behind,” Sam says, an eyebrow raised. “You’re living like a king.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Sure felt like a king when I was dealin’ with goat shit, I’ll tell you that.”

“You can quit lying, Barnes. I know you were just living your _Simple Life_ fantasy.” When Bucky frowns, Sam sighs. “When this whole thing is over, we’re getting started on your reality TV education.” 

Sam’s not wrong, though. Bucky’s seen at least a hundred different compounds over his lifetimes, and none of them looked or felt like this. He wouldn’t _dream_ of ever being in a place like this, and he smiles when he remembers something he and Sam had talked about on the road a few months back, between Fort Worth and Tulsa.

“This is kinda like the vacation we wanted to take, isn’t it?”

Sam smiles back and he finally walks in and sits next to Bucky on his bed. He’s not sitting as close as Bucky would like him toーseems like that hasn’t changedーbut Bucky still feels how warm he is. He’d finally started cooling down, but he wouldn’t mind being closer to Sam, absorbing some of that warmth. Might do something for his nerves. 

“Hell, it would be, if it weren’t forーaliens, man. Can you believe it?”

Bucky shrugs. “Kinda.” The silence that follows feels weird, offbeat for the two of them, and Bucky doesn’t like that at all. He clears his throat. “I mean, the stakes have to keep going up, right? That’s what makes TV shows successfulー’s what some guy told me.”

“You’re admitting you were listening to me, Barnes. Shit, maybe this really is the end of the world.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, but Sam seems to have caught the mild strain in his voice. He turns worried brown eyes on Bucky. “You okay, Buck?”

Bucky doesn’t want to answer that. He doesn’t wanna steer their reunion away from easy conversation and bad jokes. He’s missed this ease between the two of them almost as much as he’s missed Sam himself. But Sam ever rarely lets it go when he knows Bucky’s willing to talk, and Bucky’s willingness to talk is, for some reason Bucky would turn half the world over to find out, magically increased when Sam’s around. 

“This just...this doesn’t feel right.” Bucky stands up suddenly. _Something’s wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong_ , a voice inside him sings, and he needs to move to get it to fade. He shoves his hands inside his sweatpants pockets (they match Sam’sーprobably _are_ Sam’s, actually) and paces slowly. “I know we’ve fought some pretty intense battles over the years, but this one just doesn’t feel like the others.”

Sam nods slowly and bites his lip. He’s thought about this too. “Well, we don’t know what he wants, and just about every damn superhero’s been called down to a country that just opened its borders. The stakes aren’t just high, they’re high enough we don’t even understand them.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, and yes, that’s a huge part of it, but it doesn’t explain why Bucky feels like they’re all on borrowed time. 

“And?” Sam says in the tone he used with Steve when he knew Steve didn’t necessarily agree with a plan of his. 

“I’m not sure I know, Sam. But itーfuck. I don’t know why, but it feels likeーlike the sky’s gonna fall down.” The weight of it all finally feels like it’s too much, and Bucky runs a hand over his face. “I can’t fucking explain it. With everything else, I wasn’t sure we’d come out alive. Now it feels likeーit feels like not coming out alive isn’t the worst that could happen. I know I’m not making any senseー”

“You don’t have to. Some annoying alien’s coming down to Earth, nothing makes any goddamn sense anymore.”

Bucky smiles for a second, and sits down next to Sam again, as far as Sam had first sat from him. Then the feeling overwhelms him again. “It’s justー”

It’s not just that his intuition has been warning him incessantly for the past week. It’s not just that Bucky’s listening to his panicky body. It’s not just that if he listens to himself, all he hears is dread.

It’s that nine times out of tenーat least, between 1934 and 2014ーhe was right to worry. How many times had Bucky woken up in a haze of distant panic? First over affording food, then over making it through the day without getting a bullet through the head, then for reasons that felt more and more distant until dread was all he felt when he was feeling at all, and finally over retaining his sanity when he was holding onto it with sweaty, clumsy fingers. 

When Bucky panicked, whether it was a rare but punctual occurence or a constant, he was right to.

Bucky doesn’t think Sam’s developed mind reading powers just yet, but some understanding seems to dawn on him. Sam had been a soldier, Bucky reminds himself, and just as he’s about to tell Sam not to worry about it anymore, Sam moves closer, close enough so that their arms and thighs touch. 

Bucky was rightーhis nerves seem soothed for half a second, and then Bucky starts to panic again, for a whole other reason. 

“I know. I, ah, updated my will before we came. I hadn’t updated it since 2009. Felt silly the whole time I was with the lawyer, but I also couldn’t leave without doing it.”

“What do I get?”

“My Xbox.”

“Nice. What else?”

“What else? That’s it, you greedy asshole.”

“What? If Steve gets your record player, I’m gonna ask you to get the fuck out of my room, Sam Wilson.”

Sam laughs. “I had to. What the hell is Steve gonna do with an Xbox?”

“‘It’s not fair, Sam’,” Bucky says with a horrible falsetto, “‘you grew up on these things.’”

Sam cracks up again, throwing his head back, and Bucky’s overwhelmed by how much he’s missed Sam. He’s not the only one, apparently. Once Sam’s recovered, Sam actually lays his head on Bucky’s shoulder, and literally knocks the breath out of Bucky’s lungs.

Shit. Bucky can only hold his breath for three and a half minutes, last he checked. He’s gonna pass out before it’s fully dark out. 

“I missed you,” Sam says quietly, but there’s still warmth in his voice. He closes his eyes. “Missed you a little too much.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Bucky says just as quietly, risking the little breath he has left as he reaches out and grabs Sam’s hand. The sky might fall down in 16 hours. Why not be reckless?

“You’d be surprised,” Sam says, squeezing Bucky’s hand. Bucky starts to properly breathe again. “ _I_ was surprised.” 

“You had no reason to. I’m a swell guy.”

“You are, Barnes. You really are.”

Bucky turns towards Sam and when he finds him looking back, he leans down and kisses Sam, like he hasn’t allowed himself to do for God knows how long, and like he’s wanted to for even longer. 

Sam kisses him back and Bucky feels warm from his head to his toes, warmer where Sam’s hand is touching his cheek.

“Only took us the end of the world to get to that,” Sam says, his lips still against Bucky’s. 

“Better late than never, Wilson.” Bucky kisses him again, a little less gentle this time. “Stop complaining.”

Bucky might have trouble breathing, but his hands work just fine, making their way from Sam’s hip to his jaw. The rest of his body has gotten the memo too, and he leans back on the bed, bringing Sam on top of him. 

Before Bucky shuts the lights, he glances at the clock on his bedside table. Eight hours before a country, at the very least, is devastated. Maybe the entire planet.

He shakes his head, and kisses Sam again. 

Eight hours of enjoying the best man he knows. There’s nothing in the world he’d rather do and nowhere in the world he’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> I've randomly been reading lots of angst lately, and been listening to the same songs over and over when I do, including As you are by Kimbra (where the title of the fic is from). I'd set out to write fluff but that song was just stuck in my head, and I guess I wasn't done with that 'we'll die soon and I love you so let's [REDACTED]' vibe from the last fic I wrote. 
> 
> Anyways, I am on [Tumblr](http://targaryenmelodrama.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/andrea_b_tweets) !


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